


The New Raphael

by Scmnz



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ineffable kid, Kid Fic, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, New Parents, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), The Fall (Good Omens), canon typical amount of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scmnz/pseuds/Scmnz
Summary: Crowley finds a letter from God forgiving him, and along with that letter, a baby angel who looks like him and Aziraphale. This forces him to confront his fall and his past self, while also learning to be a new parent.“Raphael,Congratulations on your marriage, and of course, on stopping the apocalypse, as my plan dictated.You have earned your forgiveness through your excellent service to me…But unfortunately, the fall cannot be reversed.I know this information will be hard for you to accept, but I must ask that you try.I need you and Aziraphale to love and protect the new Raphael.”He crumpled the letter, shaking with emotions as thoughts raced through his mind. Everything had been perfect. Why this? Why now, when he had everything he had ever wanted.He would doubtless have stood there for hours trapped in his thoughts, his questions. But as the tears rolled hotly down his face he heard something that snapped him out of it, something he reacted to almost instinctively. An infant's cry. Crowley’s eyes fell on a familiar wicker basket in the grass. Inside it, a baby angel was crying.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) & Original Character(s), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 244
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Oh Come All Ye Sinful! A Depraved Holiday Exchange 2019





	The New Raphael

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Traillbits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traillbits/gifts).



Human myths are a funny thing. Some are true, most are not. But a few reflect deeper truths from the time before time itself was invented. Events and realities of which humans should have no knowledge, but somehow surface in their stories.

One such legend was the archangel Raphael. 

He stood before the Lord. His brilliant red hair fell well past his shoulders. His entire body was dusted with spots of starlight, his gorgeous amber eyes held the warmth of the suns he had crafted. He stood before her, with sadness and confusion in those eyes, and he asked, “Why?” And then, without warning or explanation, Raphael fell. 

How humans knew of Raphael when his fall was long before their time is a mystery. Even more mysterious was how they knew so much of his character. Healer of the sick, protector of children, too fond of humans to allow their senseless suffering, and defender of mankind. All of those came after his fall, after he wore a different name completely. And yet, somehow, humans connected the two. Somehow they knew. 

Another myth that holds some truth, another thing humans got right that they had no way of knowing, was the stork. 

*****

  
  


It was a nice day on the South Downs. It was downright idyllic in fact. The warm sun shone in a vibrantly blue sky, with only a few fluffy clouds drifting by. The garden was doing quite well, despite Aziraphale’s insistence that he be nicer to “the poor dears.'' Lush greenery surrounded the entirety of the little cottage. Three local children had already stolen apples from his orchard today, which Crowley heartily approved of. The day was perfect.

Crowley would never admit to such sappy thoughts, but in his opinion, all of the days recently had been perfect. Oh, the weather wasn’t always this pleasant, but he got to spend every day with his angel, so he couldn’t care less about things as inconsequential as the weather. 

Up to his armpits in soil, Crowley was digging a new flower bed out front when there was the sound of flapping wings. He dropped his trowel in surprise. It couldn’t be Heaven or Hell coming for them after all these years, could it?

What Crowley saw, however, wasn’t occult or ethereal in nature. It was an enormous bird crash landing in  _ his _ garden and heading with purpose to  _ his _ front porch.

“Oy! Shoo!” he shouted. The stork looked at him, squawked indignantly and ruffled its feathers. Crowley grumbled and got up. He’d be “damned” if he’d let a bloody great bird get the best of him. 

Crowley gave chase. The bird, perhaps sensing that it had a giant snake pursuing it, dashed away in fright. It dropped something from its talons and took flight with another irritated cry, disappearing over the trees to get on with its business.

Somehow uncrumpled, the object left on the grass was an envelope. Crowley flicked it open casually and pulled out a letter, unsure of what to expect. Maybe it was someone’s mail the nuisance bird had stolen, or something equally benign. And snooping on other people’s letters was just the sort of low-level mischief he enjoyed.

But all those thoughts disappeared when he looked at the words on the page, the pleasantness of the day vanishing in an instant. Unlike the ordinary, if large, stork, this script was supernatural in origin and burned Crowley’s eyes like consecrated ground. But even that wasn’t what left him feeling as if his heart had been ripped clean from his chest. Scrawled at the top of the page in flowing cursive script was a name he had done his best to avoid over the millennia. A name that still ached in a way he could never put into words. 

**_Raphael_ **

It was one thing when the humans used it, somehow managing to attribute his less demonic deeds to his past self. Sure it hurt, but it was funny too. This on the other hand… This was from the source that had ripped his name from him so long ago. 

One word, and already he was shaking, his vision going blurry. He didn’t want to read the rest. He  _ longed _ to read the rest. His eyes moved down the page as if they were being dragged.

**_Congratulations on your marriage, and of course, on stopping the apocalypse, as my plan dictated._ **

Several thoughts went through his mind at once. The apocalypse had failed to happen years ago. Why this now. They knew about his marriage to Aziraphale? But most important. My plan.  _ My plan.  _ This was from her?! After thousands of years of questions and silence, she contacted him now, using his old name? He had finally found himself at peace with the past, and now this? How  _ dare _ she! And as her plan dictated? So much for fucking free will, so much for all the stress and fear he and Aziraphale had suffered about their relationship, about the apocalypse. About everything. As if they were little less than puppets to her.

**_You have earned your forgiveness through your excellent service to me..._ **

Service to  _ her? _ None of what he had done had been for her sake, not since he had been thrown down for daring to ask why she would hurt her own creation. FORGIVENESS?!

**_But unfortunately, the fall cannot be reversed._ **

Yeah no shit. So why even bother telling him any of this? 

**_I know this information will be hard for you to accept, but I must ask that you try._ **

Crowley snorted. Yeah right, just accept it. As if. Arguably, the reason he had fallen in the first place was his refusal to accept God’s will without question. Why she would expect this to go any better for her, he had no idea. 

**_I need you and Aziraphale to love and protect the new Raphael._ **

His vision wavered. New Raphael? What the absolute fuck?! So his “forgiveness” meant he had to train some bastard angel to replace him, to steal his name? No thank you. Screw this “new Raphael” and screw her too! And on top of everything, how  _ dare _ she drag Aziraphale into this.

He crumpled the letter, shaking with emotions as thoughts raced through his mind. Rage was certainly a big part of it, confusion as well. He had a thousand more questions than he had before receiving the blasted letter, something he would not have thought possible. He felt a sense of betrayal, which was stupid. He had already fallen, how much more could he have been betrayed? Well, apparently he could earn “forgiveness” which got him fucking replaced. She only “forgave him” when she needed something from him. Typical. Everything had been perfect. Why this? Why now, when he had everything he had ever wanted.

He would doubtless have stood there for hours trapped in his thoughts, his questions. But as the tears rolled hotly down his face he heard something that snapped him out of it, something he reacted to almost instinctively. An infant's cry. Crowley’s eyes fell on the other thing the stork had dropped. A familiar wicker basket lay in the grass, and inside it, a baby angel was crying.

*****

Aziraphale sat on the tartan couch in their living room, poring over some thick volume or other. There had been many disagreements about the interior decor of their home, and it had ended up a hodgepodge of styles that all clashed horribly. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley started, struggling to form words in his current state of emotional turmoil. 

“Hmm?” Aziraphale didn’t look up from his book, completely absorbed.

“I found a baby.” was all he could manage.

“That’s nice dear.” Aziraphale turned the page.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“Of course I did.” His eyes didn’t leave the page. “You said you found a ba- WHAT?!” The book hit the floor with a loud thud. 

He gave Crowley a meaningful look. “When you say found… Crowley, did you steal a baby? Because...”

Aziraphale fell silent. The baby held tight in Crowley’s arms couldn’t be mistaken for any human child.

The most obvious tell were the downy grey wings that were clearly in the way, forcing Crowley to hold them in an awkward position. As he approached them Aziraphale saw more details. Dusted like freckles all over the little angel’s chubby body were tiny points of light, like glittering stars.

“Crowley… where did you find them?” Aziraphale asked with a hushed voice. “Who are they?” 

Crowley didn’t answer, seemed to be unable to, but one of his questions answered itself as Aziraphale looked more closely. They had some of Crowley’s features, and some of Aziraphale’s own, and some a mix of the two of them. This was… This had to be… Their child?

They had fluffy white curls, and a pout on their face that Aziraphale had used many a time to get Crowley to give him his way. They weren’t like a human newborn, less red and wrinkly. Instead, if age and development were at all comparable, they would be about six months old.

And the child’s eyes. “Oh.” Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. The irises were so unfamiliar and yet so familiar at the same time. They were a swirl of color, ranging from the dear yellow of Crowley’s own eyes to a fiery orange, with deeper flecks as well. Their pupils were like Crowley's as well. The eyes were like molten amber, different shades flowing through each other. 

Those eyes were watching Aziraphale intently.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale focused now on his husband, about to demand again to know where he had found this baby who was so clearly theirs. But before he could speak, he finally registered Crowley’s expression, the emotional turmoil clear in his eyes. He sighed, softening his tone and expression. “Darling, can you explain to me what’s happening here?” Panicking himself wouldn’t do either of them any good. But oh, it was a struggle to be the calm one.

Crowley shook his head numbly and Aziraphale sighed again. He reached out then, as if to take the child, but Crowley pulled back looking alarmed and tried to shield them with his body, even as the little angel reached out their chubby arms for Aziraphale. 

Crowley was unwilling to hand them over just yet, to trust anyone else, even him, with the child. It stung, a lot, but that was fine. He could cope. Instead, Aziraphale gently lead him to the couch. So Crowley had found a child, a child who was somehow theirs, and was now in a great deal of emotional distress. That was fair enough, only grim determination was keeping Aziraphale’s own emotions in check. But it still seemed like something more was wrong. 

Aziraphale studied Crowley. He still held the little one protectively but there was still something odd about his posture as he sat there staring straight ahead of him. Beyond, that is, the awkward position required to make space for the baby’s wings. His right hand was held in a tight fist and… was that something white held in it? 

Carefully, so as not to startle the demon again, Aziraphale reached forward. When Crowley stiffened and pulled away he began murmuring softly, hoping his voice would pierce through whatever mental state he was in. “It’s alright love. It’s me. I’m not going to take our child from you, I won’t let anyone take them. I just need to see what you have here.” He uncurled his fingers without resistance and retrieved the letter. “And it’ll all be tickety-boo.” At last, that sparked some reaction from Crowley. It was a faint smile rather than his typical sarcastic remarks about Aziraphale’s dated language, but even that was a relief after his complete lack of response. 

Aziraphale smoothed out the page and frowned. “Raphael? But no one has heard from that archangel since…” Crowley flinched and Aziraphale paused, scanning down the rest of the page. “Marriage.” “Stopping the apocalypse.” “The fall.” “You and Aziraphale.” “The new Raphael.”

_ Oh.  _ It was… a lot to take in at once, even ignoring the bit about forgiveness for the time being. No wonder Crowley was in such a state.  _ Archangel Raphael.  _ Aziraphale had never known that piece. Oh, he knew that Crowley went around helping humans and being softer than he’d ever admit. He knew that one or two of the demon’s miracles had been attributed to angels. But not  _ this. _

“Raphael,” he said aloud again, gently squeezing his shoulder hoping that would help. “Was that?”  _ Was that you _ , he did not say. No, whoever Crowley had been didn’t matter. Because he loved who Crowley was now. Aziraphale changed the question. “Is Raphael this sweetheart’s name?”

Crowley seemed to find his voice. “Yeah I.. I think so.” He met Aziraphale’s eyes. “After. After my old name.” He swallowed hard, a tear rolling down his face.

Aziraphale nodded and squeezed his shoulder again. “I love you, darling.” Yes, that was the most important piece. No matter all his questions right now, he needed Crowley to know that. “No matter what.” 

Crowley nodded hesitantly.

The baby angel, no, Raphael, squirmed in Crowley’s arms and placed their tiny hand over Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale found himself smiling in spite of his fears.

Raphael smiled in response, and Aziraphale was almost knocked over by the strong wave of love coming from them. Crowley laughed despite himself. “They have your smile angel.”

The little family sat like that for a while, holding each other and processing their thoughts. 

But there is only so long that a baby, even an angelic one, will stay still. Raphael wiggled and his wings smacked into Crowley’s face, knocking his sunglasses askew. Aziraphale couldn’t stifle a small giggle, and that made Crowley laugh as well. “Alright, alright.” He chuckled. “Let’s see what our child wants.”

_ Our child _ . Aziraphale gasped in wonder at those words.  _ Our child _ . 

Crowley got up and Aziraphale followed with a weak smile. There were still many things left unsaid, too many emotions and questions to sort out that quickly, but for now, they had a child to look after. 

*****

Like so many other new parents, getting through the first night was a struggle. Raphael cried, Aziraphale fretted, Crowley had a breakdown or five about the letter. But at long last, dawn came.

Aziraphale and Crowley sat at their breakfast table while Raphael, at last, slept. Even Aziraphale, who rarely slept, was exhausted. “So,” Aziraphale started. “Baby supplies. You looked after Warlock,” not to mention so many other children Crowley had protected over the centuries, “So you’ll have a better idea of what we need.”

Crowley nodded and started a list. “The problem is… diapers and stuff. Baby food, formula. Will Raphael even need those?” Aziraphale was silently impressed, Crowley was getting better at saying that name without being hurt by it. Not even a flinch this time.

“Probably best to get everything they might need, just in case.”

“We could probably miracle some of it up. A crib, some toys and that. Clothes might be a bit tricky, with the wings and all.”

Aziraphale nodded. “We need a room for them too.”

“How about the study right next to our bedroom.”

Aziraphale frowned. That was the best place for a child’s room but where would he put all the books currently in the study. Crowley chuckled, as if reading his mind. “I’ll take care of that, you get the shopping done.”

They shared a quick kiss and Aziraphale headed out with the list of baby supplies.

*****

In the end, it took several days to clear out the spare room of books. This was only partially due to the number of volumes Aziraphale had. Both of them were also preoccupied with how to care for a baby whose needs were so far outside the norm. Diapers weren’t an issue, thank somebody, but Raphael would still cry and neither of them knew how to help, which was heartbreaking. Perhaps that was similar to parents with colicky babies felt.

The time spent cleaning out the spare room and sorting Aziraphale’s books gave Crowley the space and time he desperately needed to sort out his own thoughts. He was still angry and confused about the letter. But he couldn’t deny, even to himself, that he loved Raphael. Even after only a few days, they had stolen his heart as thoroughly as Aziraphale had. The instructions in the letter to “love and protect” them weren’t something he could imagine himself ever breaking. No matter how much he resented God’s sudden intrusion into his life, no matter how complicated he felt about the very concept of his child being his replacement as Archangel Raphael… there was no going back, and he didn’t really want to.

Forgiveness on the other hand… He could not accept that. He would not. He had been thrown down in a blaze of fire and pain, and now he was expected to let all that go with one lousy letter that didn’t explain  _ anything _ ? Centuries, millennia of silence from her! And when at last he got some sort of reply all it did was rip open old wounds that had never truly healed.

He would protect, and love, and care for Raphael with all his being. But he was doing it for himself, and Aziraphale, and the baby,  _ NOT  _ for her.

When Crowley carried the last of the books into the kitchen he found Aziraphale looking distressed, next to Raphael in their highchair. An open can of baby food appeared to the source of the problem. 

“Look at these lovely mashed pears. Yummy! Now, won’t you open up and take a bite? For me, love?” Raphael was not at all interested in the pears and smacked the little spoon out of Aziraphale’s hand. 

“Morning angel.” Crowley set the books on the counter and kissed his cheek. “Raph still refusing to eat?”

Aziraphale picked up the spoon from the floor. “Yes,” he sighed, “And these-” he gestured to a stack of newly acquired books on child care, “say they should be fed at least five times a day, and they aren’t taking formula either.”

“Those books are about human babies. I can try again with the formula when I’ve found somewhere to put all your junk,” he gestured to the books he had just carried down, “but for all we know Raphael doesn’t need to eat at all.” Crowley considered them. “They certainly seem alert and happy enough.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and miracled the spoon clean. “I’m still worried,” he scooped up more of the yellow-green pear goo and offered it to the baby with cooing and cajoling. 

“Here, don’t you want these? Please?” he cooed.

Crowley eyed the goo with suspicion. “I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to eat that either.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad. Look here Raphael, they’re scrummy!” Aziraphale stuck the spoon in his mouth and immediately made a face. Raphael shrieked with laughter, and Crowley couldn’t help but join in. 

“I thought you liked pears,” he teased.

*****

Raphael wailed. Crowley bounced them desperately on his knee. They had been crying inconsolably for the past hour and Crowley was at his wit's end. Nothing seemed to be wrong, they weren’t sick or hungry. They were just crying for no discernible reason. But Raphael was unhappy,  _ hurting _ , and that hurt Crowley.

Aziraphale hovered close by, worried and unsure how to help. Crowley had always been naturally good with children, and while Aziraphale certainly tried his best it wasn’t the same. 

Crowley looked up at him, pain clear in eyes. “Please Aziraphale, I don’t know what to do here.” 

Aziraphale thought frantically. Something that made children happy, something that he could do that Crowley couldn’t. 

Aha!

Aziraphale fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. 

“No. Please, anything but that.” Crowley groaned. 

“Raphael, look here.” The baby’s tear-filled eyes landed on the coin.

“See, it’s here now. And now it’s gone.” Aziraphale hid the coin inexpertly in his hand. “What’s this? Fwhahh!” He pulled the quarter from behind Raphael’s ear. 

The child stared in awe and clapped their tiny hands. Aziraphale  _ beamed. _

Crowley groaned and closed his eyes. “Please, Raph, don’t encourage him.” But he couldn’t deny that he was relieved. 

*****

Crowley was returning from an emergency run to the store. Raphael may not have been consuming anything, but Crowley and Aziraphale had managed to go through all of the coffee, tea, and other caffeinated beverages in the cottage in just two weeks of being parents. They needed more, and Aziraphale insisted the miracled version didn’t taste right. His beloved angel and his  _ standards _ . 

He could hear the commotion from the moment he stepped through the door. Raphael was squealing with delight and Aziraphale’s exasperated voice drifted down the hall. “Oh no don’t do that.” Aziraphale had never been any good at stopping Warlock from getting into mischief, and it seemed he would do no better when the rambunctious child was his own.

There was baby food all over the kitchen. It was on the ceiling, and in Aziraphale’s hair, and on Raphael’s wings. Aziraphale smiled at him tiredly. “Oh good, you’re back.” There was a slight edge to his expression which said  _ took you long enough _ .

“What’s all this then?”

“The good news is that I finally got Raphael to eat. The bad news is that the food got everywhere else too.”

Crowley shook his head fondly and snapped his fingers. The mess disappeared. “We can do this, remember?”

“Oh yes, yes of course. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” There were dark circles under Aziraphale’s eyes, unusual for someone who seldom slept. This parenthood gig took it out of you.

“I’ll make us some coffee and-” Crowley paused. Not quite all of the mess had disappeared like he’d thought. Raphael was still covered in sticky mush, and appeared to be finger painting on his high-chair with the orange puree. Crowley snapped his fingers again. The chair was clean again, but not the baby. Apparently, they were immune to miracles. That could be a problem. “I’ll make us some coffee, and I think Raphael needs a bath.”

Fifteen minutes later Crowley sauntered into the cottage’s bathroom with two mugs of coffee to see Aziraphale in a ridiculous old-fashioned bathing suit, sitting in the tub with Raphael in his lap. Raphael was gurgling happily and splashing warm water all over the room. A rubber duck flew out of the bath and hit Crowley. “At least this time it’s only water, dear.” Aziraphale smiled.

Raphael was mostly clean again, except for his wings. Crowley pretended to groan dramatically while setting the coffee on the counter. “Now I have to take care of two messy angels who don’t look after their own wings!” 

Aziraphale gave him an exasperated look. “My wings have never been  _ this _ bad.”

Aziraphale set to work cleaning bits of yam out of Raphael’s downy wings and Crowley moved behind him. “Speaking of your wings…”

Aziraphale sighed and allowed his wings to slip into reality. “I don’t see why it matters if they’re a little unkempt,” he murmured, repeated an age-old argument neither he nor Crowley would be winning or letting go any time soon.

Aziraphale quietly wondered if family wing grooming would become as much a tradition of theirs and grooming each other’s wings had been for Crowley and him over the centuries. He’d never admit it to Crowley, of course, but he found his fussing on the matter quite endearing.

*****

Crowley woke up to a blinding light. A  _ divine  _ light. He buried deeper into the mattress and grumbled, voice thick with sleep, “-ziraphale, stop doing that.” 

Aziraphale stirred beside him and in a groggy voice mumbled. “Stop doing what dear?”

“The light angel, ‘m trying to sleep. It’s the middle of the night for somebody’s sake.”

“Not me doing that.”

“Oh…” A few moments passed, then they both sat bolt upright, staring at the crib at the foot of their bed.

Raphael was sitting up in the crib, clutching a blanket, a brilliant halo above their head. Their inhumane eyes were wide, taking in the previously dark room with interest. When Raphael noticed both their parents were awake they did a happy little wiggle reminiscent of Aziraphale. 

Crowley squinted at the glowing baby. Their joy at seeing him was unbearably cute, but it was also 3 a.m. and no amount of cute could make Crowley a morning person, much less a three in the bloody morning person. 

“They have a halo. Oh hell, they have a halo,” Aziraphale muttered.

“Oh heaven, I think you mean.” Crowley grabbed a spare pillow and covered his face. It was still way too bright. “‘S a nuisance.” 

“A nuisance?! It’s far more than just a nuisance.” Aziraphale sounded genuinely worried about something.

Crowley furrowed his brow under the pillow. “What d’ya mean? It’s just light, angel.”

“It’s a manifestation of their divine power. If Raphael can summon a halo, they might be able to do miracles too.” 

Crowley tossed the pillow aside as alarm and adrenaline flooded his system, no longer sleepy in the slightest. “Miracles, fuck!”

“Language, Crowley! We have a baby, remember.” 

“Yes, a baby who might start doing fucking miracles!” 

“You haven’t thought of this before? It’s been bothering me.”

“You never said anything.”

“Yes well, it seemed a rather obvious concern and-”

“OBVIOUS?!” As Crowley raised his voice Raphael began to cry. Aziraphale glared at the demon and got up to sooth the startled baby. “Sorry,” he winced and got up to help as well. 

A minute or so later all three of them were back in bed. Aziraphale was propped up by several pillows with Raphael in his arms, the bright light of their halo now directly overhead. Crowley was next to them, stroking Raphael’s back and Aziraphale’s arm. He made soft shushing and soothing noises as his husband gently rocked the fussy infant. 

“So… miracles,” Crowley began again once Raphael had settled a bit. He forced himself to be much calmer and quieter than he felt. “What sort of powers do you think we’ll have to deal with?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I don’t know. Perhaps Raph will make their toys float in the air, teleport to us when they’re lonely, escape their crib in impossible ways. That sort of thing?”

“Like something out of a horror movie.”

Aziraphale frowned. “None of that sounds horrible to me.” 

Crowley shook his head. “That’s not… never mind. So you think it’ll be cute harmless stuff?”

“Why?”

“That’s a lot of power Raphael will have. They’re an Archangel after all.” Crowley shuddered. He was still struggling to think of his small, sweet child as an archangel, as  _ his  _ replacement. “You don’t suppose they could. I don’t know. Accidentally pause time, reverse gravity, big scary stuff like that?”

“I’ve considered more dangerous scenarios yes, events that could hurt them that we couldn’t… couldn’t stop.” Aziraphale’s lip wobbled, and for a moment Crowley worried that they both would start crying. 

“I’m sure it will be fine angel.” He was _ not  _ at all sure. a whole new selection of worries for his child had just opened up. But his need to reassure Aziraphale superseded that. He’d continue to worry about Raphael and uncontrolled baby miracles privately. He’d probably have nightmares about, just like he was having more and more nightmares about his fall again. Just what he needed when nights were already restless from the baby.

Raphael squirmed and made an unhappy little noise. Crowley had faltered in his soothing motions, distracted by the conversation. He began again.

Aziraphale stared at the halo, something else evidently still on his mind. “And then, there will be flying of course.”

“Flying?” Crowley was stunned into silence. 

Aziraphale looked at him as if he were being rather daft. “Of course. Our baby has wings, Crowley. I doubt they’re merely decorative.”

It was all too much for him. Crowley coiled himself around Aziraphale and the child in his arms, as if he could protect them both from the unknown dangers the future held. 

The three lay like that, all cuddled together. As Raphael began to drowse the halo slowly dimmed until the room was dark once more. Aziraphale held them and Crowley held him, both drifting safely to sleep under Aziraphale’s protective gaze. “Good night, my darlings.” He murmured and kissed the back of his baby's head, the back of Crowley’s hand interlocked with his. They would sleep under the watchful gaze of a guardian angel that night. Aziraphale would just have to catch up on rest some time later.

  
  


*****

Aziraphale cradled Raphael in his arms and watched the sun setting over the cottage’s garden. He and Crowley were getting better at holding them comfortably, despite the precious little wings.

A month had passed since the baby angel had entered his life so suddenly. 

Raphael’s eyes reflected the sunset  in a way more mesmerizing than the sky itself . Crowley had told him that their eyes seemed like a combination of current eyes and the ones he used to have, and that the star freckles were from his old self as well. It was strange, seeing aspects of Crowley he had never known. He’d never really considered who Crowley had been before, except in the last desperate plea “you were an angel once.” Crowley was Crowley, and he loved him for it. 

As the light faded Raphael yawned and stretched in his arms. Aziraphale smiled down at him and stroked his curls as he turned from the window. “Time for bed I think.” He carried them upstairs. 

Aziraphale changed them into soft pyjamas with “Daddy’s angel” printed on the front, and gently placed them into the waiting crib in their bedroom. Crowley had protested most of Aziraphale’s baby clothes choices, but Aziraphale reasoned that if he felt so strongly about it, he could always go buy more.

Raphael reached out with plump arms and made grabby hands. Smiling softly Aziraphale picked up the baby’s favorite plushie, a snake, and put it into the crib with them. He picked up a copy of “Winnie the Pooh”, settled into the nearby rocking chair, and began to read in a quiet, soothing voice.

Soon, when he glanced up, Raphael was sound asleep. He replaced his bookmark in the children’s classic and stood, careful not to wake them.

The door to the soon-to-be nursery was closed. Aziraphale knocked and waited. He heard what sounded like a sob from the other side, and eased the door open. “Crowley dear?” His breath caught in his throat. 

The room beyond had changed completely in the past few days. Gone were the dull beige walls and musty stacks of books. Aziraphale’s antique desk and Crowley’s truly uncomfortable throne had both been relocated downstairs. Crowley had been hard at work on this whenever he had a spare moment.

The walls were a rich navy blue and painted with vibrant stars and planets. It was so detailed that it almost felt like you were really standing in space, looking across the galaxy. But of course, Crowley had stood among the stars once long ago. And so he was recreating that here, in this little cottage in the countryside. 

A mobile with phases of the moon hung above a much larger crib than the one in their room. And across the ceiling was painted a gorgeous nebula. A nebula Crowley had told him about once, one that he had made. Stuck throughout the room were sticky little glow in the dark stars Crowley had used to create constellations on the ceiling of their own room.

A very comfortable looking rocking chair with a tartan cushion sat by a small bookshelf. Crowley complained so much about his fashion and decorating sense, the inclusion of the pattern into their child’s room made Aziraphale smile. The little bookshelf was full of picture books, prettier and slimmer than Aziraphale’s first editions. Probably not nearly as well written though, Aziraphale thought.

A wardrobe stood against one wall, designed to look like a rocket ship and full of baby clothes.

“Oh Crowley, it’s beautiful.” Aziraphale pulled him into an embrace. He felt the dampness of tears as Crowley buried his face into his shoulder. 

“I miss it you know. Making stars.” Aziraphale nodded and held him tighter. Aziraphale ached to do or say something to help, but he knew from experience that what Crowley needed most was just for him to be here, so that he wouldn’t be alone with the grief and loss. 

A few minutes later Crowley pulled away and looked around the nursery, avoiding eye contact with Aziraphale. “It’s been nice, making this. Even if it’s just silly stuff with paint and plastic.”

“I don’t think it’s silly at all dear.” Aziraphale kissed his forehead gently. 

“I’d like to show you both the real thing, when Raphael’s older.”

Aziraphale squeezed his hand. “That sounds lovely darling. It could be a little family vacation.” Crowley’s face went soft at the word “family.”

Aziraphale hesitated. “I’m sorry I turned you down, before Armageddon.”

Crowley cracked a smile. “It’s a bloody good thing you did. Or none of this would be here.”

And even with all his questions, all his well-founded hurt, and anger, Crowley realized he wouldn’t trade this for all the answers in the world. 

The moment was broken when they heard a soft cry from the other room. Crowley rubbed his eyes which were still slightly damp. “I’ll go get Raphael, shall I?”

“I’m coming with you.” 

“It’s only next door?” Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, but I simply can’t wait to see Raphael’s face when they see everything you’ve made for them.” Aziraphale beamed. 

Crowley rolled his eyes as he opened to. “It’s not that big of a deal.” They both knew that was a lie.

Crowley scooped Raphael up from their crib and kissed their cheek. “Come here starlight.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Starlight?” 

Crowley blushed and shrugged. “Just a nickname. Can’t go around calling you both ‘angel’ now can I?”

There was more to that nickname that Crowley was letting on, but for now, Aziraphale simply smiled and followed the two great loves of his life into the next room. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I described Raphael's eyes well enough, but if not, here's a reference image of amber that looks like what I was trying to write - https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a9/c5/38/a9c538d31f8e79727fbe0252871dba0b.jpg


End file.
